


I pray every single day (for a revolution)

by LittleHandGrenade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also I'm probably forgetting some characters and tags, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Sensates, Alternative Universe - Sense8, Character(s) of Color, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, The sense8!AU no one asked for and yet I delivered, This is me being self-indulgent, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHandGrenade/pseuds/LittleHandGrenade
Summary: “Why bothering then?” asks Valjean, unable to understand, incapable to accept this is it, this is how all of this ends. “Why bring them into this if you’re still going to leave?”“They’re going to persecute them anyway, at least now they have a chance.”“For what? For a life of running and hiding? For an existence ruled by fear?”“To do what we should have done since the beginning,” Fantine answers “To fight.”Or the one where eleven strangers scattered all-around the world discover that what connects us as humans are not our blood-relations, but love.





	I pray every single day (for a revolution)

**Author's Note:**

> So, after I finished watching the second season of sense8 -months ago- I thought... How come I haven't read a Les Amis Sense8!AU when the weird codependent relationship they have is perfect for a plot like this? So I looked, and looked and didn't find anything (then again, I looked only in like three tumblr recs lists and I suck at using tags in AO3 so, there's a big chance I missed something) so, I thought: Why don't I write one? 
> 
> And surprise, I did! (Well, I'm still working on it, but it's something!!!) So, let's go with the warnings so you can get rid of me and read the preface of the results my self-indulgence moment.
> 
> First of all, I don't have a beta so you will have to deal with my mistakes just as I have been doing for twenty one years -and God, if it hasn't been fun #not. Second, english isn't my first language so... there's a chance there will be some weirdly structured sentences somewhere. Feel free to tell me about the weird stuff you notice in the comments and I'll correct it immediately. Also, if you see something that doesn't seem right about the sensates relationship feel free to tell me too. It's been months since I watched the show so I might have forgotten how some of it works or I might have adopted some headcanons I've read on tumblr and take them for true. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this and I'll see you at the bottom with more notes ;)

_'My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?'_

**Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell**

 

“I can see them.”

The words leave Fantine’s lips almost unconsciously, trapped in the middle of a gasp as she desperately attempts to breath, her whole body supported against one of the old stone walls of the abbey, what once used to be a beautiful construction destined to represent the glory and power of God on earth now reduced with the past of time and modernization to abandoned ruins.

“God, they’re gorgeous” she adds after a while and Valjean can notice the faintest of smiles reaching her pale and chapped lips. For a moment, he thinks, she looks like the Fantine he met so many years ago with her blue eyes shining full of hopes and determination. However, that spark, that little glimpse of better times that now lie forgotten, disappears as easily as it came, leaving just the broken shell of a woman he has grown accustomed to see in the last years. They stay in silence, him watching her, her trying to steady her breath, her eyes closed.

“How’s Cosette?” she asks after a while, still not looking at him, choosing to focus instead on the fading paintings of the ceiling.

“Beautiful, _brilliant,_ ” there must be something in the way he says it, a not so subtle hint of pride that earns him the attention of the blonde woman who tilts her head slightly as she stares at him. Now’s his turn to look away, crossing his arms over his chest as a way to show his discomfort at her scrutiny.   

Fantine smiles at him, a subtle movement on the corner of her lips that could have passed unnoticed for everyone else but not for him. After all this years he knows Fantine better than he probably knows himself, can read her like an open book and he knows she can do the same with him too.

Valjean puts his hands in the pockets of his old and ragged coat trying to keep them warm in the chilly breeze of the french nights as he wanders through the church, examining the carved details on the stone walls, most of them covered in mold for the action of nature over the ancient structure. Behind his back Fantine moves too, walking with shaky legs at the back of the room, the dim moonlight that gets through the windows making her look like an apparition.

Thrown carelessly over the altar is a duffle bag, a black leather timeworn thing that once belonged to him. _The runaway bag_ , he used to call it.

 _It always brought me good luck while I was on the run_ , he told Fantine when he gave it to her ten years ago on a stormy night in Paya Lebar. Cosette had been there too, a petite ten year old girl sleeping on a ratty couch of a motel room, covered with his jacked to protect her from the inclement weather and maybe, just maybe, as an unconscious promise to keep her safe even in the more merciless and uncertain future that was approaching them faster than they could run, _I’m sure it’ll help you too_.

He observes Fantine, her ski-blue eyes fixed on the interior of the bag while her hands roam inside of it and he knows immediately when she finds whatever she was looking for, feeling the cool sensation of metal against his fingers before she has even had the opportunity to take the gun out for him to see it. He feels every muscle of his body tense up and wonders how much of it is because of his own fear and how much from Fantine’s.

“You said you’ll wait” he says, his hand on hers, Fantine’s fingers clutching tightly the revolver.

“There’s no time left.”

“You said you’ll wait for them”

“He knows I’m here” she says -almost screams, and she sounds so desperate he feels taken aback for a second even if that piece of information is nothing but old news. Félix knows, he always knows, a constant voice in Fantine’s head just like Valjean’s “He’s coming.”

“You can still run” he insists, desperation bubbling on his veins.  The blonde shakes her head.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option anymore.”

“Why bothering then?” he asks, unable to understand, incapable to accept this is it, this is how all of this ends. “Why bring them into this if you’re still going to leave?”

“They’re going to persecute them anyway, at least now they have a chance.”

“For what? For a life of running and hiding? For an existence ruled by fear?”

“To do what we should have done since the beginning” she answers, lifting the gun between her small, slender hands “To fight.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re fighting” he scowls, and maybe it sounds a little more accusatory that he intended. He doesn’t care.

“I’m not sure I ever started” Fantine mutters and she sounds so unbearably sad he takes a couple of steps in her direction, his arms open, waiting for her. It takes only one look from her blue eyes to stop him right on his spot because he understands; one simple touch would make Fantine’s determination crumble and now there’s much more in game to risk it in a chasing game they never had the opportunity to win. But maybe, just maybe, someone else will, and if Fantine believes in it so maybe he can try and do it too “But the least I can do to redeem myself is give them a little more time.”

“Fantine” says Valjean, a vain attempt to stop the inevitable.

She smiles again “Take care of Cosette.”

Miles of distance away Valjean closes his eyes. Even when her voice has faded, the sound of the shot keeps echoing on his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all folks! (at least for now). We'll see Les Amis in the first official chapter that I hope I'll be posting next week.


End file.
